


Fireworks

by OneWhoTurns



Category: Oxenfree (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, Oblivious Alex, Soft Jonas, fluffy with a bittersweet ending, my first attempt writing a demi/gray ace char so i really hope it works, no step-sib relationship, pining jonas, return to the island, the most summery of summer vibes, this got out of hand, your standard time loop angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-06-28 15:46:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19815424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneWhoTurns/pseuds/OneWhoTurns
Summary: The one saving grace of that first kiss (apart from, well, it wasn’t a bad kiss) - the one thing she could point to as making the kiss sort of okay, morally - was that it was in a timeline where they were just friends. Well… okay, maybe the kiss might have changed that. A little? Or maybe it didn’t get a chance to, much, cause Alex was too busy shutting herself away and having a teensy tiny crisis over kissing her sometimes-stepbrother.And then, naturally, as always seemed to happen July 8th, it would be May 1st all over again.or: the First, the Fourth, the Fireworks.





	1. Chapter 1

[ ](https://onewhoturns.tumblr.com/post/189347110725/onewhoturns-fireworks-alexjonas-first-kiss)

She should’ve seen it coming. He’d become her other-brother, the one she went to with the things she wasn’t sure she wanted Michael to know. Even if Michael so often ended up finding out anyway (the awkward moment when Michael realized Jonas had been her emergency ride home from a party at Pat’s where she got a little past shitfaced, that was a memorable one). It’s par for the course, in these realities where Michael is with Clarissa, where Ren is with Nona, that Alex gravitates toward “new in town” Jonas. At least, at this point she’s pretty sure that’s how it goes. She doesn’t remember everything, just bits and pieces and vague feelings. She would remember if she’d kissed him - if he’d kissed her - before, right?

There had been moments, sure, that might’ve hinted at it. Halloween night, when Clarissa wore those red contacts, and Alex was shaken to her very core, Jonas had been the one she drove to the coast with. Staring up at the stars, in comfortable silence, feet knocking against one another lazily. Wrapped up in the ratty blankets from the back of his truck, sitting on the rocks and looking out at the ocean. Not that she’s all that big of a fan of the ocean, either, but it was too cold for anyone to try to pressure her into swimming (and Jonas has never been the type to do that, anyway).

Actually, it was weird— the first time (this time around, anyway) she’d balked at deep water, everyone had seemed surprised. Like this Alex was a friggin’ fish or something. A couple of panic attacks later, they’d learned not to push it. It was wading or the shallow end for her. And Horn Lake was officially a no-go area.

Maybe that’s why she’s been perhaps a little bit clingy with Jonas at the 4th of July barbeque. She couldn’t convince her parents not to have it at the lake, so instead she brought Jonas along and once there dragged him as far from the water as possible, perching on top of the playground equipment, throwing snap poppers at the ground and lighting sparklers and dollar store smoke bombs and trying to forget the fact that Michael is probably at this very moment swimming in the thing that killed him. In the dark. _Like an idiot.  
_

It jolts her heart straight into her throat hearing Clarissa’s yelp of, “Mike!” from the beach. The smile wiped from her face, the sparkler drops to the ground and she’s on her feet in an instant, staring worriedly toward the spot their families are camped for the night’s festivities, but unable to see past the silhouettes of a few bodies gathered around the camplight. But then Clarissa bursts into shrieking giggles and Alex finally breathes again.

“Hey,” Jonas’s voice is soft as he wraps a hand around her wrist, giving a gentle tug. “You alright?”

She might be about 50% of the way to crying when she turns back to him. Maybe. Possibly. Or maybe it’s just the wide-eyed panic that has him suddenly concerned, that small crease between his brows just visible in the mix of moonlight and tree-trunk-filtered LED camplight as he reaches for her other hand as well. “Alex, seriously— are you okay?”

Her pulse had skyrocketed, but with his thumbs rubbing circles into her palms, it’s a lot easier to come back to herself. She hadn’t realized the memory — a false memory, now, of something that never even happened — was still so clear, that it could flash so vividly into her head, no matter how briefly. A noise somewhere between ‘mhm’ and ‘ehhhhh’ croaks from her throat between closed lips.

God, his face is so _soft._ For someone so good at maintaining his cool (ever-vigilant, after his juvie stint, of keeping his temper in check), Jonas’s expression is pretty transparent. None of the usual wariness she gets from others about her baseless fear of the lake, or her occasional moments of sheer panic. His smile, small and slow and warm, is genuine. Caring. A corner of his lips lifts wryly. “Don’t go all Edwards Island on me, now.”

It’s so easy to step forward, to stand in front of his perch on the stupid plastic wall of the kiddie playground, to step between his knees and rest her forehead on his chest and just breathe. He’s grounding. Dependable. A few breaths of his shirt - his deodorant a scent she’s pretty sure she can pick out of a lineup - has her head a lot clearer.

“...Alex...” His voice is almost hoarse, and he clears his throat.

“I’m okay,” she mutters, and sighs before straightening, pulling her hands from his to rest on his knees, avoiding his eyes. “Just… you know. That thing,” she tilts her head toward the sounds of splashing and laughing and people checking their watches in expectation of imminent fireworks. She’s told him about Michael. Well, in a way. She didn’t go into the whole parallel timelines thing, but he knows she had some kind of experience, or maybe a dream, that made Michael + swimming + lake = terror. He puts a hell of a lot more stock in it than Michael, too.

“Right. Yeah.” He swings his legs a bit, thudding his heels against the hollow rails with a _thunk-thunk, thunk-thunk_. “...Wanna get out of here?”

Alex shakes her head, staring at the ring that still hangs around Jonas’s neck. “Nah, I’m— I’ll be fine. Besides, the fireworks are gonna be starting s-” The word isn’t even all the way out of her mouth before she sees as well as feels his shift of attention, looking up to the sky, and a moment later there’s the boom and crackle of the first rocket. She half turns, watching the scattering of sparks floating a bit sideways in the slight breeze. The camplight went out from where the rest of their group had stopped to watch. And then up goes another, another thud and a noise like hard rain on a plastic roof.

She turns to watch the sky, midnight blue, speckles of stars lost in afterimages of the fireworks. A triple explosion - the loudest ones they’ve got, all in a row - brings a smile to her lips. “Nice.”

“Yeah. It’s, um… beautiful.”

Alex scoffs, shooting a glance back at Jonas with a small smirk. “They’re like ten bucks a pop, Jonas, this isn’t some masterful pyrotechnics, just the annual July Fourth _‘extravaganza’_ according to a few suburban PTA moms.”

“Heh... Yeah, well. Last year it was me and my dad watching Die Hard on the couch and listening to it all going down outside, so…”

“But Die Hard’s a Christmas movie.” She ignores the teeny touch of guilt that she didn’t invite him last year, after all the Island drama. Then, all she’d wanted was to be around her flesh-and-blood, no-longer-dead brother. This year, though, with all the graduation festivities over and done with, with Clarissa and Michael both home for the summer and both families chattering at each other constantly any time they’re in close proximity, Alex was way too eager to have a friend to hang with.

“Oh, we watch it then, too. Sandwiched between Trading Places and Gremlins.”

She narrows her eyes for a second, unsure if he’s serious, before elbowing him in the stomach, rolling her eyes. He hooks an arm around her to keep from taking a ten foot fall to the ground, pulling her back against him as she snorts, “Seriously, you guys have the weirdest traditions.”

“Hey, I take personal offense at that.” He flicks her in the arm, and when she bats his hand away, and he teeters once more, he wrestles her arms to her sides. “Alex I swear, if you push me off this thing and my legs stop working I will never forgive you.”

She’s smirking, but let’s him hold on. “Optimistic. I think I’d aim for paralysis from the neck down.”

“Well you’re the overachiever.”

Another burst of one, three, one, four explosions, and they’ve fallen into companionable silence. In a brief pause between pops, Alex muses, “You know, I heard three years ago one of the firework engineers almost lost an eye.”

“Hm.” She doesn’t get much more than that from him, and then there’s another _pop-crackle-pop-pop-BOOM_ and his hold tightens a little.

“Scared?” she teases, as the sky clears again, in anticipation of the finale. She’s pretty sure that’s his heart she feels thudding against her shoulder. “You never told me your family has a history of losing eyes to pyrotechnical accidents.” Seriously, is he having a heart attack?

“Alex…” His voice is quiet, maybe hesitant, close to her ear.

She huffs out a small laugh, “Relax, I’m just-” But when she turns to reassure him their lips meet and— Jesus Christ, they’re kissing, when did they start kissing? Her eyes close for a fraction of a second before the fireworks crackle through the air and she blinks back into her senses and pulls away. “What the hell—?”

“Shit, I’m— Sorry, I—” He lets go of her immediately, and she can feel the heat off his skin even if she can’t see his blush as she stumbles a step away. “I didn’t— That’s— Fuck, my bad.”

She thinks maybe she should be leaving, walking back to her family, glaring at Jonas for kissing her so suddenly, but instead stands, dumbly, a foot out of his reach. She’s just… baffled. Confused? Perplexed.

Jonas’s head falls into his hands as he groans. “God, that was—” He’s mumbling into his palms, “Can we just pretend that didn’t happen?”

Alex stares for a second. Because, she’s just… there’s a lot happening in her head right now. Specifically, after mentions of Christmas, she’s remembering that awkward moment at Ren’s Christmas party, running into Jonas in a doorway, catching him spotting mistletoe and very quickly stepping out of her way, face flushed from what she’d initially assumed was the spiked punch. And maybe there had been glances across the front seat on those midnight drives, the way he looked at her when she stuck her head out the window and howled at the sky, that grin he gave her, and the look in his eyes. Tracing the lines of her palm hanging over the side of the couch as Ren and Nona battled it out button-smashing, as everyone threw taunts and jeers at game night. That time she’d had a nightmare and called him at 4am and he _answered_ (with only minor complaint).

...Okay. Maybe she’d… um… maybe…

A hand is rubbing at his neck awkwardly, head hanging low, feet tapping a quick nervous rhythm close to the bars, super audible in the silence now that the fireworks are over and done.

Alex has never been particularly good with romance. She has, in fact, been notoriously obtuse when it comes to people liking her. Case in point, apparently. But she _does_ like Jonas. And it’s definitely not the same way she likes Ren, or Nona, or even Michael. She loves him, really, just never considered it a physical thing, never thought that maybe it could be something… else. He’s her best friend. Closer than Ren in a shorter amount of time. She’s just… surprised, that’s all. But that doesn’t mean there isn’t something settling in the pit of her stomach. Something not nearly as unpleasant as she might have expected.

She probably looks more angry that she feels, brow furrowed as she steps toward him. But she’s not angry. Just… trying to figure out what exactly she’s about to do. And really trying to ignore that nagging feeling in her head that this is one in an infinite number of timelines where too often this is _not_ okay.

A tentative step forward and she’s between his knees once more, fingers resting on denim. He drops his hands and glances up; ashamed, hopeful, mortified. “Honestly, Alex, that was way out of line, I shouldn’t have-” His voice stutters to a halt as she brings her face closer to his. Her gaze shifts from his eyes to his mouth— she’s just to his right, glancing away for a second, and she spots his hands gripped tight to his perch, and she turns back, and her eyelashes brush his cheek as she noses into his space, and then—

Their lips are touching. Again.

It’s… nice, actually. Better when he breathes her in and seems to melt against her and his hands wrap around her waist like he’s scared she’ll pull away again. Her heart is in her throat for a completely different reason now, because this is the closeness she likes with him— only better, closer, but not in a way that makes her feel awkward or uncomfortable or… It’s just… really nice. Kissing him.

When she breaks the kiss, she doesn’t pull back, only moves to rest her cheek on his shoulder. There’s a pause, a moment when she realizes her heart is beating as hard as his was earlier, and she lets out a short huff of breath.

“Um…”

But whatever he’s going to say, it’s interrupted with a call from the beach. The camplight is on again. “Alex? Alex honey, we’re just about packed. It’s getting late.”

She’s not sure when her palms went to Jonas’s chest, but they leave it now, stepping away once more, only for him to catch one hand.

“Want to go for a drive?” It’s hopeful, maybe a little anxious, even though the request is one he’s made - hell, _she’s_ made - time and time again. “Or— or I can just give you a ride home, or…”

She shifts from one foot to the other, avoiding his expectant gaze. Instead her free hand traces the chain, hooks briefly into the ring around his neck. Shit— She lets go, steps away again, pulling out of his grasp. And he lets her go, of course he does, and she wonders if she’d spot his expectations falling if she were brave enough to look. “I’m… look, I’ll…” The breath feels forced from her lungs in a puff of air. “Not tonight.”

And she feels like an idiot for it — feels guilty and stupid because that’s just mean, leaving him like that — but she leaves the remnants of sparklers and smoke bombs and poppers scattered on the ground (in a poor display of responsibility) and walks back to the picnic site not quite too fast, but with a kind of determination that only comes from pointedly avoiding thinking about potentially really fucking up a relationship thanks to an awkward kiss in the dark. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp. This felt almost complete at five pages (chapter one). Now it's ten. Luckily, it's got a very fixed timeline and I'm already 1/2-2/3 done. So it can actually be finished!


	2. Chapter 2

When he texts her a casual  _ “hey” _ at 1am that night, she doesn’t respond.  


When he shoots her a  _ “post 4th fireworks sale, gonna ask Ren if he wants to do a thing, you up for it?”  _ she still doesn’t respond.  


When Ren messages her a series of emojis along with a photo of easily 50 bucks worth of discounted fireworks, she ignores it. 

* * *

Michael finds her on the 6th. “Hey. Still alive, I see.”

“Yup.” She’s sprawled out on her bed, feet on her pillows and head at the foot, tempting fate with her phone held directly above her face, watching videos of DIYs she’ll never do-it-herself.  


He settles on the edge of her bed. “Ren seems to think you’re avoiding him for some reason.”

_ Not him… _

Alex rolls her eyes. “He’s just being dramatic.”

“Yeah, well, he also said he’s in need of getaway drivers and asked if I’d be up for some potentially illegal activity so… know anything about that?”

She can’t help the crooked smile. “I plead the fifth.”  


“Anything to do with him asking about a blowtorch?”

Now she’s practically smirking. “I mean, I can neither confirm nor deny the potential purchase of 5 to 50 pounds of fireworks.”  


Michael’s eyebrows shoot up, but he’s laughing immediately. “No crap. Really? Wow. Yeah, I can see how he’d want a quick out. Did he have a location in mind?”

Alex shrugs. “No clue. Since it’s Ren, I’m betting wherever it is is trespassing.” She has to grin at the look on her brother’s face— that crooked grin nearly matching hers, the shake of his head as he looks half impressed and half amused at the revelation. But she can sense it even before he says it, as his expression becomes more serious.  


“...So… any idea why Jonas keeps driving by and parking and then leaving? It’s getting to be just a little bit creepy. Did you two…?”

She thinks he’s asking if they had a fight. He’s probably not asking if they kissed. Alex rolls over onto her front, glancing around the room in an attempt to avoid the question, and her eyes fall on the calendar hanging on her wall. The day, marked in red sharpie, with two circling arrows. Two days from now. It all resets.  


So fuck it, sure.  


“Did you know Jonas likes me?”

When she turns her gaze back to her brother, he’s half rolling his eyes. “You guys are like best friends, of course he—”

“No, like—  _ likes me, _ likes me.”

Michael looks at her for a second, bemused. “...Well… yeah, kinda.” It’s his turn to avoid her stare. “I mean… not to blow up the kid’s spot or anything, but— it’s sorta obvious he’s in love with you. Is that what this is about?”

Alex is dumbfounded. “‘Sorta obvious?’”

“I mean…” Michael tugs at his shirt hem, shifts a little in place. “When you first got close I thought maybe you were gonna get together, but— well, you’re not really the type—”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She demands, and he just laughs.  


“Seriously, Alex? You’re like… the least— the most— I mean, I just assumed you were asexual, to be honest.”

She blinks. Well, sorta, yeah. Except how she felt during that kiss wasn’t exactly the same way she felt about the idea of kissing in general. “I’m…” She shakes her head, not particularly keen on figuring out what exactly she is right this second. “Wait, go back.”

“Okay?”

“What do you mean he’s— um. What’s obvious?”

Michael lets out a long sigh. “Look, kiddo, I don’t know what to tell you. The boy’s got it bad.”

“But he went out with Nicole-”

“For what, three dates?  _ Last year? _ ” Michael laughs. “Look, I don’t know how he was this year, I wasn’t here. But from what I  _ have _ seen, he’s been in love with you for… like, ever? I mean, he barely dragged his eyes off of you for the polaroid.” He gestures to the picture stabbed up on Alex’s bulletin board. The last picture of their night on the island. The version she doesn’t remember.  


She’s flushing beet red at this point, and Michael grins and claps her calf. “It happens! It happens all the time. Seriously, he knows you well enough to know it’s pointless, he’ll move on. Let him mope a bit, and when you’re off in Eugene he’ll do his own thing and get over it.”

Alex shoves her face into her comforter, groaning.  


“...Or… not? Not so simple?”

She makes her confession into the blankets, but she’s pretty sure he knows exactly what she said. Still, he pries.

“I may have misheard, but I’m pretty sure you just said something that may or may not have to do with where you two ran off to at the barbeque, and I, for one, am—”

“Oh shut up, we kissed once. Once!”

He should not be allowed to look so entertained by this distressing news. “Okay, regardless of your personal views on romance, I think you may have finally had the quintessential ‘awkward first kiss’ and it’s a milestone and I’m proud of you for surviving it, so-”

“Not my first kiss.”

“What?! You didn’t tell me you’d kissed someone!” He seems more appalled at this bit of gossip than her very real anxiety over the more recent kiss.  


“Well, to be  _ frank, _ it’s none of your business,” she replies crossly.

“I’m your brother! I should get the final approval on all boys— or girls!— or— or other! Look around, Alex, this is the year of our lord 1950 and your business is my business and you’d better brush up your homemaking skills and-” He falls into laughter at the sneer on her face. “Wow that— that went on way longer than I expected you to let it.”

“Oh my God, Michael, just…” She lets out a long sigh because, as annoying as he occasionally is, she doesn’t want him to be gone. And he will be. This time two days from now he’ll be gone and dead again and she’ll be back where it all started and Jonas won’t  _ be _ just a friend she kissed, he’ll be her stepbrother again and she just— she can’t have these feelings. She can’t.

It’s like he can see the moment her expression passes from annoyance to frustration to a sudden and deep futility. “Hey, hey- Look, I’ll shut up, okay?” His head is cocked, hoping she’ll share what exactly made her go quiet. Finally, as she seems unwilling to elaborate, he sighs. “I know it’s none of my business, but… Jonas is your best friend. Regardless of how you feel about him, you should let him know. And if you guys want to go makeout or whatever, now’s the time! You’re going to Oregon in the fall, so summer is basically free real estate.”

She’s glaring at him, silently, but feels a twist in her gut. Now is the time, indeed. Two days before it all goes back, sure, but then… but then she has time after time to try again. And every time he’s her stepbrother she’ll feel awful and guilty and hate herself and… She deflates into her bed.  


“Give it some thought, okay?” Michael gives her another pat on the leg before standing and turning to go. “Oh, and— text Ren, will you? Let him know you’re alive?” He dismisses himself with a quick double tap at her door frame and is gone. 

* * *

_ Okay fine. Let’s go break the law. _

_ You’re the one who said it, not me. When they subpoena your text messages, I want you to remember that. _

_ Acceptable. _

_ In that case: BREAKIN THE LAW BREAKIN THE LAW!  
Tomorrow at 7. You, me, Nona, Jonas, and Mike and Clarissa if they’re up for it. Get the old crew back together for a final fuck you to all that nonsense. _

_? _

_ Bring an opaque bag and wear something with lots of pockets, we’re smuggling contraband onto the ferry. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that kinda wrote itself a different way then I was planning. Ren just jumped out and said 'back to the island we go,' and me, the ever obedient scribe, went along with it. 
> 
> And yeah, I know, there's a lot of dialogue. But that's just kinda how it be with this game I think ^^' I mean, that's the gameplay, really, so that's the stories too. Or maybe I'm just making excuses 😅 I dunno. Shoot me a comment, lemme know what you think, if there's not enough narration and too much dialogue or if it works okay. I'm definitely open to some concrit, since this is pretty much a next-day posting project.


	3. Chapter 3

[ ](https://onewhoturns.tumblr.com/post/189347105805/onewhoturns-fireworks-alexjonas-first-kiss)

If anyone had told her that approximately 14 months after whatever the hell happened on Edwards Island she’d - they’d _all_ \- be heading back to that cursed place, Alex wouldn’t have believed them. And as she watches her friends faces, as Michael hands the drive thru bag to Clarissa, and the fast food is doled out among them, she thinks that maybe there’s some fear under their smiles.

“Not to put too fine a point on it,” Clarissa is doing that thing where she wants to be a bitch but is just a hair past the line of ‘too nice’ to do it. She’s always so much nicer in the later half of the loops. When she exists. “But… is there any particular reason we’ve jammed five people in this car when Jonas is stuck driving alone?”

Michael hums a noise that is suspicious for its innocence, and Alex feels like everyone’s eyes turn to her. Michael is stopped at the turn out of the parking lot, shooting her a look over his shoulder that says _well it had to happen sooner or later._ And he’s right.

Alex sighs melodramatically. “Yeah okay fine, I’ll go be Jonas’s navigator.” She pops the door open and steps out, pulling her backpack from where it was wedged under the seat.

“Great! Finally getting my fries all to myself!” Ren seems overjoyed, and Alex’s eyes narrow at his mischievous grin, wondering just how much he knows. Jonas and Ren always get along a lot better in the timelines when Michael’s back. But well enough for him to mention the— um…? “Alex, if you don’t get moving you’ll be holding up traffic and we’ll get stopped and our glorious plans will never come to fruition.”

“...Not necessarily a bad thing…” she mutters, but closes the door and lets them drive off as Jonas’s truck pulls forward.

It’s a hand-me-down, well worn, and by now she’s familiar with it— how much the handle sticks, how she’s really gotta yank the passenger side door, the right spot to step on the running board to swing herself up into the front seat.

He looks surprised to see her, though he obviously knew she was getting in since he was the one who stopped for her. “Hey.”

“Hey.” She avoids his eyes, settling her pack between her feet as he pulls out of the lot, and digging in her paper bag for— “Yesss.” The box is popped and that perfect high sodium nugget is in her mouth immediately.

“Still think it’s weird you don’t use sauces. Not that I’m complaining— I mean, I’d rather not have ketchup smell soaking into the upholstery, but still.”

“Why on Earth would I mar the perfection of a well-fried nugget?” She gives him a pitying look, but he’s grinning, and she’s grinning, and everything is back to normal. And when he looks back to the road, she feels a little tug in her gut that could be anxiety but feels a lot less awful.

“You know that stuff is just fleshy bits all held together with meat glue-”

“Shushushushush!” Alex waves a finger at him. “Do not. Ruin this for me.”

He’s smirking, and it’s cute. Dammit, he’s cute. Since when is he cute?

“...Just for that, I’m taking a fry tax.”

“What?!” For all his shock and horror he can’t hide his smile and she’s already digging in his to-go bag. “If anything, I deserve a tax of your disgusting dry nuggets, for driving.”

“Jonas, seriously? A burger? How exactly did you plan on eating this while driving?”

He shrugs, “I dunno. Wait til we get there? I mean, it’s July, it’ll keep warm-ish.”

He’s kind of right, but it’s also kind of gross. Plus the sun will be down in the next hour and it’s already cooling down outside. “Hoo, bud, that is a str-etch.”

“Hey, give me a break, okay? I haven’t driven to the ferry before, how was I supposed to know it’s far enough that we’ll need provisions for the drive?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe Google?”

“Okay you know what? You’re the fry wench now. For that, you are the fry wench.”

She snorts, rolling her eyes. “Riiiight.”

“Nope, it’s a thing now. Fry me. Wench.”

There’s a vicious grin on her lips, spotting her secret weapon nestled in the cup holder. “Owo, what’s this?”

“Did you seriously just—” Jonas’s words stop as she lifts the cup. “Alex…” It’s a warning, but not one she plans to heed. Her fingers pop off the lid. “Don’t you dare.”

“Oh: I dare.” Her smirk is straight up evil as she brings the fry to the milkshake’s edge. “I am the dare-iest.” She snorts and repeats, “I am the _dairy_ -est.”

“First you threaten to ruin my milkshake and now you’re punning about it?” He shakes his head disappointedly.

“The only fry sauce for me.”

Jonas lets out an audible hiss, wincing as she dunks the fry. “You’re a monster.”

“You’re a cretin with an unrefined palate,” she shoots back, exaggeratedly humming her enjoyment as she chows down on french fry and chocolate milkshake.

“Dry nuggets and soggy fries,” he tuts his tongue in disapproval.

“One day you will taste the majesty that I taste and you will be enlightened and choirs of angels will sing you to flavor heaven.”

He’s skeptical, but amused as he shoots her a look out the corner of his eye. “...Okay.” He catches the raise of her eyebrow and laughs. “Screw it, right? Why not now? Fry me, humble fry wench. Gimme that soggy fry.”

There’s a look of triumph, of complete and utter self-satisfaction, as Alex picks out the perfect fry for the job.

And then eats that one, and picks out another.

“Why don’t you just buy your own fr-” He stops cause she’s about to poke him in the chin with a milkshake-covered fry, so he just shoots her a side-eyed glance and eats it. She’s chomping down on her own (perfectly seasoned, no-sauce-needed) nuggets as she watches his brow furrow, watching the road before them - Michael’s tail lights - with a look of utter concentration.

“Hm?” She bats her eyelashes, about 90% sure she’s won this debate.

Jonas’s lips twist and she thinks he’s chewing his cheek before he finally speaks. “...It’s… okay.”

“Ha! It’s delicious, you lying liar.”

His tongue swipes out for just a second to catch the last grains of salt on his lip, and he’s giving her that begrudging amused look, and she suddenly remembers that kissing isn’t bad and— oof— where did that even come from?

“It’s… what’s the opposite of sub?”

She knows what he means, though the context is lacking. “Super?”

“It’s super-par? That doesn’t sound right.”

Finishing off her nuggets and licking her fingers clean, Alex preens; “Just super will do. Super duper, even,” and ignores his snorted response.

“...How much longer is this drive, anyway?”

“Like… thirty minutes?”

For the first time since she entered the car, there’s a moment of silence.

“Um…”

She’s suddenly holding her breath. There’s just a teeensy bit of terror that he’s gonna ask her some Big Loaded Question about their kiss. But when he finally brings himself to say something, it’s a lot more relevant.

“So. The island.”

Crap. She’d almost forgotten about that for a second. “Yeah… Why did Ren pick it?”

Jonas lets out a heavy breath. “Pretty sure it’s some BS about closure.”

Alex is definitely too comfortable with him, cause the bitter laugh is nervously bubbling from her throat before she thinks to stop it. “Pretty sure there’s no closure in a loop. Or— well, like, I mean it’s a _closed_ loop, but— but it’s already happened? Or… something?” Ugh. So much for living in the moment. She makes a weak attempt to wipe the soles of her mostly clean beat-up high tops on the car’s rubber mats before pulling her legs onto the seat, criss-cross applesauce, just like elementary school. His annoyance at feet on the upholstery is minimal. This truck has seen much worse than a few pebbles and a bit of dirt.

“Well, yeah, but…” His fingers are drumming on the steering wheel. “...I mean, maybe he’s right. It was a year ago. It’s over.”

His free hand digs through the bag for his food, and unthinkingly grabs the spilled fry pieces and dips them in the uncapped shake before popping them in his mouth. There’s definitely an urge to point it out and crow about it, but Alex is no longer in the mood. _It’s not over. It’s never over._ Instead, since he seems intent on doing it, she unwraps the burger for him and holds her tongue from warning him how ridiculously stupid it is to try to eat a burger while driving. And when he reaches for it he has that same soft look on his face, and he maybe takes a little too long to take it from her hand, and she feels a tiny bit noodle-y as blood rushes to her cheeks.

The effect is lessened a bit as he inevitably drops shredded lettuce on his shirt, and there’s a cynical edge to her poorly hidden affectionate smirk. Of course she’d figure this out now. Too late. Too early. Too much of a wrench in the cycle of island-island-island. He’s… bent the spokes of her tire, or... something. Whatever it is, it’s just gonna make it harder to deal with the leaving.

She sighs, feeling like her lungs are being pressed of all their air. It’s not the first time she’s backhandedly grateful that she won’t remember it all at once. A twisted kind of blessing and curse all at once. She remembers too late to stop it, but still has to remember. It usually just ends up confusing. Or depressing.

Or both.

If she were looking at him she might see the way he glances over at her, the way he keeps glancing back and forth between her and the road, mildly irritated by the food in his hand, looking at her hand instead, before he finally settles on just finishing his burger as soon as possible. But she’s not, so all she sees is him taking massive bites.

She raises an eyebrow. “You good there, bucko? Don’t forget to breathe.”

He shoots her a vaguely irritated look, but his mouth is too full for a comeback. Which, okay, maybe that does lighten her mood just a bit. Alex does not stop stealing fries. She, of course, rationalizes this with the fact that they’re already getting cold, and cold fries are of no use to anyone. The only sign that he spots her continuous filching is the occasional side-eye she gets. But she just turns straight ahead, watches the back window of Michael’s sedan.

That’s one of the things she loves about Jonas’s car, no matter how… _well-loved_ it is; it’s a solid foot or more taller than all the smaller cars on the road. And yes, that means it’s a pain in the ass to climb into, but once she’s in she’s so tall! She likes tall. Jonas is tall. She likes Jonas.

...Oh no, not this again.

He opened that whole can of worms and now… they’re just… flailing around on the asphalt of her heart, or… whatever worms do. The metaphor in her head is very promptly heading just about nowhere. The point is: she likes him. She really really likes him. But there’s A Lot happening— the fact that she _like_ likes anyone, for one, when she’s more used to friend crushes in the ‘you seem so cool I want to hang out with you’ way and not in the ‘okay yeah, actually, this kissing thing, not too bad, please hold me’ way.

She chews her lips, pulling her knees to her chest and making a noise like a _hurnnngh_ cause she is very A Lot right now and — _hhh._

“We don’t have to go, you know.” Jonas is done with his food, with minimal spillage, and is watching her closely in quick glances.

“Hm? No, no, that’s— it’s fine. It’s just an island.”

She hasn’t been back since that night. Maybe she should’ve. Maybe she could’ve learned something. Maybe— and it was a slim-to-none chance, but _maybe_ — there was a clue there to ending this hopeless cycle.

“If it helps, I’m like 99.9% sure no one wants to fuck with any radios.”

Her smile is grateful but weak, cause now she’s not so sure that that’s it. Maybe they _do_ need a radio. Maybe it’s time she gave the Sunken a piece of her mind, instead of running away and hiding and trying to live her life one 14-month dose at a time.

“And, y’know… um…” Jonas’s words are becoming more uncertain, more mumbled as he continues. “I’ll… be there, I guess. With you. If that even— I mean, if that makes a difference.”

She’s not expecting the sudden jab of pain in her chest. Because— well, it does and it doesn’t. For Alex, Jonas was always the one on the island. He was the one who believed her when no one else did, who stuck by her and occasionally scared the shit out of her, and sat by her side when she went God knows where with the ghosts in her head. But… that isn’t how it happened here. In this timeline.

Her breath is held for a half second before she puts her head against her knees and sighs. It can’t hurt. Whatever pain she’s due for, she’s due for it no matter what. So she flops her arm out, onto the cupholders, narrowly avoiding toppling the milkshake and instead just crunching down the now-empty to-go bag. She’s not looking at him. Not even when she flexes her fingers out, expectantly. But she can guess at his expression, when his fingers twine with hers. _Soft._

She shifts her head sideways to glance at him when he turns her hand over, and feels her face going flush when he pulls the back of her hand to his lips. He’s watching the road, but he’s— alright, it’s cheesy to say he’s glowing, but… well. His ears are pinker than the light of the setting sun and she suspects he’s trying to play it cool, but his lips are twitching.

“You are such a sucker.” Not that she isn’t blushing, too. But she can at least attempt to hide her face in the shadow of her knees.

“Shut up. I’m a romantic.”

She’s smiling at him, rolling her eyes. “Oh really. Since when?”

“I’ll have you know, it’s genetic.”

And okay so maybe it’s also a little contagious, cause he’s shooting her a look, and the sun is just at that really annoying height where it’s blasting orange light into everyone’s eyes, but it’s kinda beautiful. He’s kinda beautiful. And he’s very nearly grinning, and Michael’s words pop into her head— _“...he’s been in love with you for… like, ever?”_

She doesn’t argue. Doesn’t even make an attempt at a comeback, especially since she knows it’s true. She just lets whatever’s doing little loop de lous in her stomach keep doing its thing, and she holds his hand and— yeah, maybe it’s a little sweaty, but it’s July so what could she expect really. She just holds his hand. And they’ll figure the rest out later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As tempted as I was to end this here (cause, hey, it's basically a happy ending!), I made a promise in chapter 2 and I have to follow through. We're still heading back to the island for a night. 
> 
> I'm working on the final chapter, and hopefully will finish it in the next couple days. I may have been _slightly_ distracted by a very exciting collab project for this ship, so... keep an eye out for that. 😁

**Author's Note:**

> Also, let it be noted that midway through writing I got [Fourth of July](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9WoC059T9N0) by Darlingside stuck in my head and am loving it for this fic. (I think some people outside the US have trouble with that sort of "topic" video, so [here's one](https://onewhoturns.tumblr.com/post/186293374680/onewhoturns-all-roads-run-from-this-one) where the video is crap but the audio is fantastic- and there are lyrics.)


End file.
